smoke signals

smoke is the breath of our lungs and has the rhythm of the earth
twisting into the words of our lost
making the sting of our nostrils


the most silent vertebrae intrudes on the helix structure of wisps
and prolongs strands causing highways to diverge and carve
fitting of a glove
by physically expanding our minds we can see ourselves turned around
owl like we twist, our eyes half closed
looking in looking out then twisting like rotten oak with the crack of bark
then floating like seeds with the dream of pollination

look out, paths come by often but decisions not
you'll hear my mouth while my eyes strike gold
gargoyles make cease, they may cease
but the bee can always sting.